Contact Unknown

Contact Unknown

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WpMetadataReadOngoing15m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Jun 12, 2015
WpInfo
Fiction
Horror
Nickolas is a seventeen-year-old young adult located in a town that has an infinite list of secrets. story begins at a bus stop near his house where he sits and recalls the memory of being abducted nearly a year ago. Abductions occur in his home community, the town of Bentley. The pattern that occurs is this: A boy between the ages of sixteen and eighteen goes missing, nine months later the same boy appears again but he is brain damaged. A significant part of his brain has been removed by an individual who has the experience to take this area of the boy’s brain out and leave him alive. Four boys in the past years had been abducted and returned brain damaged after nine months, one of them is Nickolas’s twin brother ( identical twins). Nickolas was returned to his home without brain damage. Many in the town believe that he has something to do with the abductions, but there is no evidence. Nikolas recalls nothing but coming home from a party the night he was abducted and then waking up on a river bank nine months later.
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[Every story has many sides, this one here is Split in two.] Introducing Henry Simmons, teenage student just like any other, surviving the harsh highschool ambient everyone goes through. Henry's sour life turns into a confusing mess when his best friend's twin brother shows up, the way he acts towards him makes him confused, he tries to figure out what he did wrong. He has truly no idea. //TW: Mention and portrayal of Mental health issues and conditions, which may not be accurate.// - - • • • - - "I feel like I'm dying." Henry confessed, his guts hurt, his head was spinning, his heart was pumping and his mind was screaming, he wished to sleep and rest for at least a moment. "You're not dying, you're just wasted out of your shit." Nick said. Henry looked at Nick, and he looked down, at the floor. "Holden is a piece of shit, but you have a certain thing that intrigues me." Nick confessed. "Me?" Henry asked. "You, Henry Simmons, not Holden Simmons." The staring contest became a contest of curiosity, a sort of attraction like a magnet, pulling and pulling, but never strong enough to force the motion. - - • • • - -

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